


For There Is No Darkness in the Maker's Light

by ReB00t



Series: To Serve Man [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-06-07 00:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15207230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReB00t/pseuds/ReB00t
Summary: The story of Esme Amell, a mage of the Ferelden Circle, told from the point of view of the man who loved her.This is Part 1 of "To Serve Man": The story of each hero in the Dragon Age games with a twist: Each hero is a mage, and each story is told by the man who loved her."Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him."





	1. To prepare his people for the doom to come

He was doomed.

Pacing quickly back and forth in front of the witch’s hut in the Korcari Wilds, all Alistair could think, over and over again, was that he was doomed. But it was not for a reason he would ever have suspected, and it was completely out of his control.

The thought first crossed his mind as the ogre had raised its terrible shape from the ground in front of him in the Tower of Ishal. The scene had been absolutely gruesome, as if it were a page torn from a story book. Blood and spittle still dripped from the monstrous creature’s jaws as it stared him down. 

But what had been most startling to Alistair was the reason he felt the impending doom. The threat of disaster did not come from the monstrous adversary rising above him.

It came from the woman who had collapsed in front of him.

He and the new Grey Warden had a specific mission. Things had not gone according to plan. Things rarely do. But, together, they had finally made it to the top of the Tower of Ishal. All that remained to be done was to light the beacon and signal the remaining troops to jump from cover and support the king and the Grey Wardens already in battle.

Alistair had felt the air catch in the back of his throat as they had entered the top floor of the Tower of Ishal. An awful behemoth of a darkspawn stood between them and their final objective.

There had been no time for fear. The teyrn’s men beside him had slowly started to shrink back towards the stairs behind them, but not the new Warden. Of all of them, she seemed the bravest. She had been the bravest of the recruits in the Wilds as they gathered darkspawn blood for the Joining Ritual, and she was clearly still the bravest now, even standing next to seasoned soldiers.

In his peripheral vision, Alistair watched her tighten her grip on the plain stick of wood in her hand and slightly crouch into a defensive position next to him. With a small nod to acknowledge and match her determination, Alistair had raised his sword and shouted a challenge at the beast as it slowly turned toward them.

The next few moments had been a blur. The clang of steel against the ogre’s skin and armor. The cries of the soldiers as they were thrown from the monster’s back. The unearthly sound of magic as his fellow Warden aimed attacks at the giant darkspawn. The cool, calming feeling when the same staff that could cause destruction was used to heal his aching muscles.

But when he had felt the feeling of doom, everything stopped. 

His mage companion had hurled attack after attack at the ogre from range, but finally, the monster had had enough. It turned abruptly away from Alistair’s threats and shouts. Alistair watched powerlessly as the ogre bowed its head and charged toward the woman whose only armor was a flimsy mage robe and a magically enchanted stick.

“Esme!” 

His voice had rung against the cold stone walls of the Tower as the mage toppled to the ground with a shout of pain. He had only said her name out loud once before. But now, his heart leapt from his chest as her name involuntarily left his lips with a cry of desperation. Alistair had never been so afraid as when he watched the ogre topple his new friend to the ground. 

And that was why he knew he was doomed. It wasn’t the ogre that frightened him. It was the new wave of emotion coursing through his blood at the sight of Esme’s helpless form. That was more frightening than any monster or magic. It was magic in a class of its own, and Alistair was terrified of it.

With all the strength and courage he could muster, Alistair charged toward the ogre. He tried to keep one eye on Esme -- whose body lay in a crumpled heap on the ground -- and the other on the ogre. As he jumped onto the ogre’s back, Alistair pleaded with the Maker that the ogre would return its focus to him and leave Esme alone. 

Alistair muttered a silent prayer of thanks as his wish became a reality. The ogre’s attacks renewed against his shield. But seconds seemed like hours while Alistair waited for Esme to rise from the floor. 

A second prayer had escaped with his breath when he saw Esme slowly crawl to her knees, gripping her staff and tossing a heal on herself as soon as she rose. She shook her head slightly and turned to face the beast between them.

The smile that had graced Alistair’s face when his companion found her feet was enough of a distraction to put him in danger. He knew it and Esme knew it, but it had been too late to change what happened next. The darkspawn beast lunged at him quickly enough to knock him to the ground. Alistair’s sword fell from his hand, just beyond reach as the ogre stepped over him, trapping his sword arm with its monstrous leg and growling and gnashing its foul teeth in his face. Alistair, pinned beneath the ogre’s legs, panicked slightly until he saw Esme out of the corner of his eye.

From behind the ogre, her brows were furrowed in deep concentration as a ball of some sort of energy formed between her hands. It grew brighter and brighter until Alistair almost wanted to shield his eyes. But just when the light was too bright to look at directly, Esme released her hands toward the ogre.

As the behemoth had toppled to the ground, Alistair rolled quickly in the opposite direction so he would not be crushed by the beast’s dead weight.

So many emotions had coursed through him in just a few minutes. Had it really only been a few minutes? Truly, it had to be. But as relief washed over him, he again realized the awful feeling was deeper than he would have expected.

Alistair had fought darkspawn before. He had trained with Duncan prior to the battle. They had fought side by side with the straggling darkspawn they had found in the Wilds on the way to Ostagar. It was not the ogre that froze him with fear.

It was the eyes of the mage whose hand extended to help him off the floor. It was the smile on a beautiful face that showed a similar emotion of relief that they had survived the ordeal together. It was the jilting and awkward chuckle that escaped her lips when he realized he was staring at her.

And of course, he had made it even more awkward by saying, “I think we work well together.”

Why had he said that? Of all things to say after surviving a brush with death. I think we work well together? 

There had not been time for him to lick his wounds of embarrassment. More darkspawn had thronged the Tower just as they lit the signal beacon. He did not remember much after that, but he did remember feeling the same sink of despair in his gut as he watched an arrow pierce Esme’s shoulder. That was the last thing he could remember before the world had gone black.

These feelings had to be stopped. They put him, and his charges, in danger. They distracted him from his mission and his duty. That was the reason for the feeling of doom. Of all the times for his heart to choose to falter, this had to be the worst -- just when the world was depending on him to fight the Blight.

But even though his mind knew better, his heart pressed on. And now, he paced in front of the hut of the Witch of the Wilds, who  _ claimed _ that Esme was safe and merely needed rest to recover from her wounds. 

With that thought, Alistair crouched on a rock next to the nearby stream and put his head in his hands.

 

_ “We haven’t really had a chance to talk much since you arrived,” Alistair said as he sat next to the new recruit by the fire. She rewarded him with a smile. _

_ “It’s been a busy day,” she replied, “and it seems as if we will have a busier evening.” _

_ “Nothing like some hardtack and gruel to help soldiers prepare for battle.” _

_ “Is that what they call this?” she asked. “Even in the Circle we had better food.” _

_ “Yes, the Circle.” Alistair trailed off as he forced himself to swallow the light supper that he would rather forget. “I meant to talk to you about that. I’m not really a templar, you know.” _

_ “What?” Esme had asked him, one eyebrow lifted in confusion. _

_ “You -- mage. Me -- templar. It’s not really like that,” he replied. _

_ “You know that there are many times you make absolutely no sense,” she chuckled good-naturedly. “What are you talking about?” _

_ Alistair hoped she could not see his blush in the dim light of the fire. And why in the Maker’s name was he blushing? _

_ “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he said, shifting his weight awkwardly. “It’s a story for another time, perhaps, but I was miserable in the monastery. I trained to be a templar, but I never took my vows. You don’t need to worry about working with a mage hunter, or some other foul name for a templar. I know many of the techniques used by the templars, but I am no templar. I’m just another Grey Warden like you.” _

_ Alistair watched as Esme made a similar face to the one he had made as she forced herself to swallow the excuse for gruel in her bowl. Leaving her plate unfinished, she pushed it aside and flashed him another small smile. _

_ “I appreciate the thought, Alistair.” He liked the way she said his name. “But I was not concerned. There are templars who were unkind in the Circle and we had to be careful around them. But I have also known many who were good and … thoughtful. Some of them, in a different world or time or place, might have been my …”  _

_ Her voice had trailed off, and although she was looking in his direction, Alistair felt as though she were looking straight through him. _

_ “Friends,” she concluded after a long pause. Shaking away a brief hint of sadness, she continued, “It is kind of you to try to put me at ease, however. All of this outside the Circle is very strange to me, and it is nice to meet someone considerate. I am looking forward to working with you.” _

_ “Do you really mean that?” Alistair asked, knowing that he sounded a little too eager. The smile on Esme’s face said as much. “Most people don’t-- I mean-- I just…” _

_ He hung his head in embarrassment, unsure of what to say. Butterflies flipped in his stomach as he realized that he, Alistair, Master of Quips and Comebacks, was actually at a loss for words. _

_ He could not remember a time that that had happened. _

_ “Esme,” he muttered, half to her and half to himself. _

_ “Yes?” she answered with a smile. _

_ “No, I mean...your name.” Alistair scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s a bit, unusual, isn’t it? Where does it come from?” _

_ “It’s not as unusual as you might think. It’s short for Esmerelda, but I find four syllables to be a bit much for a single name, don’t you?” _

_ “Not at all, for the right person.” _

_ “Well, I prefer to be called Esme.” _

_ “And I prefer to call you whatever you prefer to be called.” _

_ Maker’s breath. This was becoming worse by the second. He should just shut his mouth. _

_ “So then,” Alistair attempted to regain control of the conversation. “Is three syllables too much for a name? Because if so, you are welcome to shorten mine if it suits you.” _

_ He was sure the grin on his face was woefully painful, but it was too late to take back the words now. _

_ To his relief, Esme didn’t laugh at him. She didn’t chuckle or scoff or turn away. With a kind, soft expression, she simply said, “Not at all. For the right person.” _

 

Falling into a reverie with his memories did him no good in this situation. Alistair let out a deep sigh as he rose to his feet again. Everything had been such a rush since that quiet moment before the battle. Only minutes later, they were fighting darkspawn in the Tower and all had gone sideways.

He had failed. Duncan was dead. The king was dead. The darkspawn had won the battle. And on top of everything else, Esme was injured and he did not even know if she lived.

And that was why he knew he was doomed. He had thought she was lovely before, but Alistair Theirin did not commit  _ that _ easily. He had never loved before. He was not in love now. He couldn’t be. He barely knew this woman. How could he even care for her at all?

But the feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought Esme might have been killed-- that was something new. It might not be love, but it was something. Something that he could not ignore, no matter how he tried. A feeling that could distract him enough to put himself -- and her -- in danger.

He could chalk it up to the excitement of the battle. The blood rushing through his veins as they fought their way up to the top of the Tower. His anxiety over Duncan and the king’s safety. The raw energy that it took to find it in himself to kill other living creatures, however vile they might be. But he had been in battles before. This was different.

This was true, real fear for another person’s safety and well-being. And a beautiful person at that.

He was doomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been many years since I have written anything. I used to write many things, including fanfiction, but gave up when I encountered some real life trials. I have battled demons in my own life, and I am returning to writing as a way to heal. 
> 
> I love the Dragon Age games and the characters in them. They have pulled me out of some dark places in my life. I hope you enjoy reading my project. This is the first in what I hope to continue as a series through all the games (and maybe DA4, if BioWare ever gives it to us). 
> 
> You will find I prefer to tell the stories "between." This is not a novelization of the games. This work/series will consist of the scenes between the battles, cutscenes, and stories found directly in the games. Occasionally, I may indirectly use a scene that we all know and love, but my goal is to tell the stories of the space between.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Bitter is sorrow

_ “Check if her heart is still beating.” _

_ Alistair rushed to Esme’s side at Duncan’s command. Gently, he cupped her head in one of his hands, using the other to feel for a pulse against her throat. _

_ “She lives,” he said, almost in a prayer.  _

_ Duncan nodded. “It is well. She will be fine in a few moments,” the senior Grey Warden assured. _

_ “Is it always this hard to watch?” Alistair asked, refusing to take his eyes off of Esme’s face as she breathed slowly in and out. When Duncan did not reply after several moments, Alistair turned to face his mentor standing over him.  _

_ With a strange, knowing expression, Duncan crossed his arms and replied, “No. It does get easier with time. But there are some Joinings that are harder to participate in than others. This one was particularly difficult.” _

_ “Because of Ser Jory and Daveth?” _

_ “Partly, but sometimes there are other reasons that our duty as Grey Wardens is heavier to bear.” _

_ “What do you---” _

_ Alistair stopped mid-question as Esme stirred in his arms. Releasing her gently, he helped her to her feet as she awoke. _

_ Even when he knew she was safe and alive, his hands were still shaking. _

 

His hands were shaking now, just as they had at Esme’s Joining. They shook until he saw her emerge from Flemeth’s hut, unharmed. The tense feeling in his chest instantly dissipated when his eyes met hers.

Esme was fine. More than fine. It appeared that Morrigan and Flemeth had taken better care of Esme than they had of him. Esme seemed better rested and moved with less fatigue than he did as they left the hut in the middle of the Wilds. He wasn’t entirely surprised, since Morrigan clearly disliked him and the feeling was mutual. But setting his reservations about Morrigan aside, Alistair found he was relieved that Morrigan and her mother had treated Esme so well. He would rather that any magical reserves be tapped out to save his companion rather than himself.

And there was that feeling of doom again.

Alistair shook his head and forced his mind to be in the present. He quickened his step to keep up with Esme and Morrigan as they left the witch’s hut. 

“Which way do we head now?” Esme asked Morrigan.

“That depends on where you plan to go,” Morrigan replied. “Do you want to head to the village I mentioned for supplies? Or should we head straight for this Loghain and chop off the head of the snake?”

Esme looked to Alistair for guidance, but he had no idea what to do. He just shrugged in reply. Esme, with a slightly exasperated roll of her eyes, said, “Since you are the only one who was able to take any supplies, Morrigan, I suggest that we stop at this village you mentioned -- Lothering? We were not prepared for a trip so suddenly since we didn’t plan for the battle to end the way it did. Alistair, what do you think?”

“Oh, I quite agree,” Alistair said hurriedly. 

“As you say,” Morrigan said, rolling her eyes. “I think we can make it a bit farther to camp before the sun goes down.”

The journey was quiet that evening. Each person seemed lost in their own thoughts. Alistair found his mind replaying the events of the past few days over and over, jumping from memory to memory.

Much of his reverie was spent thinking about Duncan. The Warden had been so kind to him when he had no one, like a father he had never known. Duncan had trained Alistair and trusted the new recruits to his care. Was it partly Alistair’s fault that Jory and Daveth had not made it past the Joining? Had he failed his new charges?

Alistair shook his head at that thought. Of course it was not his fault. He could not have stopped Jory’s cowardice or Daveth’s unworthiness. Those things were not his fault -  _ could _ not be his fault.

Thank the Maker that one of the recruits had made it through the ordeal. He did not have to be alone in this quest. Alistair looked side-long at Esme walking next to him. She seemed lost in her own thoughts as well. He wondered what she was thinking about as they marched onward. Was she remembering her life in the Circle? Did she have friends or family that she missed? Did she think about him at all?

Esme noticed him watching her and smiled. He foolishly grinned back before he could calm his excitement.

_ Blast! I’m such a fool,  _ he thought.

They made camp in a small grove just as the sun was setting. Unsurprisingly, Morrigan kept to herself. Since they had not had time to pack at all, Alistair and Esme made do with small bedrolls that Flemeth had loaned them as they left the Wilds.

Alistair wasn’t quite sure how to navigate this situation. Should he find a separate corner of the camp like Morrigan? Or would it be appropriate for him to stay by the fire, since they had no tents to protect them until they reached Lothering.

“I know this may sound strange,” Esme broke the silence before Alistair had solved his quandary, “but would you mind laying your bedroll near the fire with mine? I-- I have not slept outside the Circle since I was taken there as a child. I’m not...I’m not used to sleeping away from--- from where I used to be. I’m especially not familiar with sleeping outside.”

“Of course,” Alistair replied, perhaps a little too quickly. “I actually enjoy sleeping under the stars. It’s not so bad once you get used to it.” 

Esme rewarded him with a smile. “Thank you,” she said quietly as she unrolled her sleeping mat. Alistair did the same, regaining a bit of composure. 

This was the first time since he had met her that Esme seemed unsure and, perhaps, a little nervous. She had been so confident in everything since he had met her, but somehow, sleeping under the stars was something that cracked her composed exterior, just a bit. His instinct would have been to put an arm around her, pull her close, and tell her everything would be alright. But that, of course, would be wholly inappropriate. Still, he took some comfort in the fact that she had asked him for help when she felt unsure. That was something. He didn’t know what it all meant, but it was something.

When a fire was lit and all was prepared for the evening, Alistair reached into his pack for something to eat. The day had been long and taxing. He was hungry and he was sure Esme was too. He wasn’t worried about Morrigan. He was sure she was taking care of herself, but when he found the small container of salted meat he was looking for, he handed Esme a few pieces.

“It’s all we have for now. It will take a few days to get to Lothering. I will try to ration it out,” he said.

“Thank you,” Esme replied, chewing on one of the pieces he gave her.

“You know, you’ve done amazingly well,” Alistair continued.

“What do you mean?” Esme asked.

“So much has happened in such little time. I can’t imagine how I would have felt if all this had happened to me right after my Joining. It’s really only been one day, and already you have joined the Wardens, fought darkspawn in battle, and escaped with help from the Witch of the Wilds. We’ve both lost Duncan, but between the two of us, I’d say you’ve had it pretty rough.”

Alistair paused to judge Esme’s reaction. She wasn’t looking at him. She was chewing slowly and staring at the piece of dried meat in her hand.

“But you haven’t let any of that phase you,” Alistair said softly. “I’m sure I would have been a wreck if I were in your place, or at least more of a wreck than I am right now.”

“I have done my best to fake it until I make it, as they say,” Esme looked up at him with a wan smile. “I really have no idea what I’m doing. We didn’t train for battle in the Circle. Everything here is… strange and difficult.”

The smile left her face and she stared back at the fire. Alistair, desperate to put the smile back on those beautiful features, coughed quietly.

“Well, I wouldn’t have known. You seem very well practiced in your art,” he said.

“Of course we practiced using our magic,” she responded. “But we never really let loose. We couldn’t. The templars wouldn’t let us, and we didn’t have a reason to. I mostly practiced different methods of healing. I’ve never really had to use my magic to hurt anyone...or anything.”

She made that sad face again. Alistair wasn’t sure why. She seemed to enjoy talking about magic, but discussing her life in the Circle always seemed to end with Esme staring blankly.

_ What happened to her there _ , he thought.  _ Something must have happened. Why did Duncan recruit her? _

“There was one templar who was different from the others,” Esme spoke again. “He was kind to all of us, and you could often find him in the library studying. He said he wanted to be the best he could in every way. He would allow us to let loose a little more when we trained. He said it was good for us to be prepared and good for him to practice his own techniques with us as well. That was the closest thing to combat training that I had.” 

Esme’s eyes flitted nervously and Alistair felt a twinge of something in his gut. 

_ Again all these feelings...I don’t know what they are _ , he thought.  _ I wish they would just stop. It’s all so confusing. _

Esme continued after an awkward pause. “I enjoyed studying magic and mostly wanted to learn how to heal people -- to help people. I didn’t much care for fighting. But I suppose that templar was right. It was good to be prepared, I guess.”

Silence descended between them. Esme’s countenance drooped again and Alistair found himself thinking of Duncan. Had his own lack of preparedness for the battle made things worse? If he had been a better swordsman and they had lit the signal beacon earlier, would that have made a difference in Loghain’s strategy?

He would never know, but he couldn’t stand the sad look on Esme’s face or the pangs in his heart anymore. He had to do something.

Alistair had an idea. He jumped to his feet quickly. He wanted to cheer Esme up, and perhaps he had found a way to do that.

“Well, I told you I have some templar training. I know some defenses against magic, and you are no longer in a Circle Tower so the rules have...changed a bit,” he said. He walked over to Esme and offered her his hand to help her stand. “Why don’t you practice on me?”

“Practice what?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Your magic attacks! What else?”

“As naive and clueless as a newborn,” Morrigan said from behind him as she walked toward the fire. “I came over to warm some food on the fire for supper, but now I think I shall stay for the entertainment.”

“Alright,” Esme said, facing Alistair and ignoring Morrigan’s comments. “That might be a good idea.” 

Alistair’s fingers tingled slightly when Esme accepted his offered hand and rose to her feet. Shaking his head to bring himself back to his senses, he grabbed his shield and walked a few paces from the fire. After crouching in a defensive stance, he unsheathed his sword and smacked it against his shield.

“Come at me then!” he said with a smile. And she did.

She started slowly with simple attacks from her staff. Alistair deflected them easily. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted.

“You want more than that?” Esme asked with a hint of concern. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Of course I do! Don’t be afraid. You can’t hurt me that much.”

“Naive as a puppy,” Morrigan said. “In brains and stench, they are the same.”

“Hey!” Alistair shouted at the witch by the fire. “That’s not nice!”

“I may, or may not, have been talking about you,” she replied.

“I have no idea what you meant, but I’m sure it’s unpleasant,” he retorted. Ignoring Morrigan, Alistair turned his attention back to Esme, but he was a second too late. She had taken him at his word and was warming up one of those balls of energy, like the one she had fired at the ogre in the Tower of Ishal. It wasn’t nearly as bright or as big as the weapon of destruction she had used on that beast, but the color and shape were unmistakable.

Alistair braced himself as best he could, but to no avail.

The next thing he remembered was waking up with both Esme and Morrigan looking over him on the ground. One of Esme’s hands was cupping the back of his head while the other was placed lightly on his chest.

“Alistair,” Esme said breathlessly, “are you alright? I didn’t mean to. I was just doing what you asked. I--”

“Hush,” he said, ignoring the pounding hammer in his head and reveling in the tingling sensation of her hands touching him. “I’m just fine. My pride is a little wounded, but other than that, I’m fine.”

“Hmph,” Morrigan said as she retreated to her corner of the camp. “I will keep first watch tonight. Goodness knows you two fools need to rest.”

Glad to be alone again, Alistair sat up slowly. Esme stayed by his side.

“I am very sorry. I should have held back a bit more,” she said.

“Not at all,” Alistair replied, rubbing the back of his head where he had hit the ground. “It was exactly what you should have done.”

“We don’t need to practice again. I’m sure I will be fine.”

“To the contrary, I think we should practice more often.” Alistair smiled. “But I’m the one who needs the practice.”

There was that look again on her face. It wasn’t sad, not really. Was it longing? Regret? What was it? And what had he said to trigger it?

“We are going to fight many more demons and darkspawn before this is through,” Alistair continued, trying to rescue the conversation. “I need to be prepared for those attacks, and I must need to work on my defense if I’m able to be knocked down so easily by a mage fresh out of the Tower.”

He must have won her over with his smile, because she smiled back.

“Don’t feel too badly,” she replied. “I may enjoy healing magic, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t good at offensive spells. I trained with First Enchanter Irving himself. He took me under his wing when I was very young. He always said he could recognize true talent when he saw it.”

“Well, you might have said something about that before,” Alistair said bashfully. “I might not have gone so easy on you.”

He winked at her. What in Andraste’s name possessed him to do that? 

He held his breath and waited for the fallout that never came. She laughed good-naturedly. 

“I do like your company,” she said. “Thank you for making the evening much lighter.”

His heart soared. That was what he had hoped for.

“Anything to oblige,” he answered, unsure what else to say.

“I am quite tired, however,” Esme said with a yawn. “I think I will try to get some sleep.”

“Probably a good idea for me, too. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Don’t know where else I would be,” Esme grinned as she walked toward her bedroll.

“Right, of course,” Alistair said as he moved toward his own spot on the ground. “Good night, Esme.”

“Good night, Alistair.”

He waited until he could hear the soft breathing of her slumber before he let himself fall asleep.


	3. And the sages went forth and looked to the stars

Esme was restless.

For his sake, Alistair was restless, too. That was why he had volunteered to take second watch. Morrigan had not woken him gently when her watch ended, and of course, she had made some biting comment to which he was too tired to reply. He couldn’t even remember what she had said, but he was sure it was not nice at all.

And now, Alistair sat silently alone by the campfire, keeping watch. It was much easier to distract himself when people were awake and they would talk to him. But his restlessness now came from the tortured, uninterrupted replay of events in his mind. No matter how he tried to change the subject, his thoughts wandered back to Duncan, Cailan, the battle, and eventually, Esme. Always, his mind returned to her.

He was tired. It had been a long day and being on second watch meant Alistair would get the least amount of uninterrupted sleep, but he didn’t really mind. He was happy to make things easier for Esme if he could. 

Alistair wasn’t exactly sure why he felt so protective of her. The newest member of the Grey Wardens could clearly handle herself. Maker’s breath, she was the one leading all of them about on this monumental task. But somehow, Alistair found himself wanting to protect her, to support her, to do anything he could to lighten her burden. And if that meant he would take the worst watch for their first night away from any sort of civilization, he would do it.

But now he watched silently as Esme tossed and turned on her bedroll. Occasionally, she would murmur something under her breath, but he couldn’t make out the words.

_ Archdemon nightmares _ , he thought.  _ That must be what is bothering her. Duncan never had a chance to explain anything to her before-- _

Suddenly, the weight of his duty came rushing down over him like a bucket of cold water. He might prefer that Esme lead and take charge of their path forward, but he was the only person who could tell her what it meant to be a Grey Warden. That was a heavy burden. Alistair wasn’t sure how he could help. He barely knew more than Esme did, but at least he had had the chance to spend more time with Duncan. Alistair had to help her, to teach her. He may have only had a few months with the Wardens, but that was definitely more time than Esme had. 

Self-doubt plagued Alistair’s mind. What if he wasn’t up to the task? What if he failed her, just like he had failed Duncan and the other Wardens?

He couldn’t handle that thought. Banishing it from his mind, he focused on Esme again, who seemed to be waking up from whatever dreams had caused her to thrash about on her bedroll.

“Bad dreams, huh?” he asked when she woke, rubbing her eyes.

“Must have been something I ate,” she said with a weak smile.

“Drank, more like,” Alistair replied. “As in the tainted blood, remember?”

Esme sat quietly as Alistair explained how the Joining had forever changed not only her life, but her dreams as well. He watched as the realization of what he was explaining to her spread across her features, and his heart sank as she absorbed the new knowledge that she would never fully escape the taint of the darkspawn and the Blight. Not even in her dreams.

“Thank you, Alistair,” she said when he finished his explanation. “I appreciate it.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Alistair replied, reflecting on his earlier thoughts about his duty to teach and help Esme learn to be a Warden. But instead of alluding to those heavy thoughts, he chose to try to lighten the mood. “To deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners.”

Esme rewarded him with a polite chuckle. At least he could make her smile a little.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Esme laid back down.

“I know there’s still an hour or so before my watch, but I’m not sure I can go back to sleep now,” she said. Alistair noted a hint of sadness in Esme’s voice. 

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep before the dawn?” she continued. “I can start my watch early.”

He couldn’t leave her alone like this, not after her first Archdemon dream. He had not been alone after his. He had had the camaraderie of the other Wardens and Duncan to help him within the safety of strong, stone walls. Esme, on the other hand, was in an unfamiliar land with unfamiliar people, sleeping on the ground after living in the Ferelden Circle Tower for most of her life. Alistair could only imagine how she might feel, and he was sure it wasn’t good.

He laid down on his bedroll and looked up at the stars, not sure what to say or do but knowing he would not abandon Esme to the empty, crisp night. 

The stars shone down on him silently, offering no advice. They were usually his friends, but tonight, they gave him no comfort. Alistair realized that they must look wholly cold and distant to Esme.

And that was when it hit him. That was how he could help.

“Draconis,” he said suddenly.

Esme turned to look at him, brows furrowed in confusion. “What?” she asked.

“Draconis,” Alistair repeated, this time pointing above him to a collection of stars just to the east of the campsite. “That’s the constellation right there, the High Dragon. The brightest star is the center of the constellation and they all spread out from that. There, there, and there.” Alistair moved his fingers to indicate the tail and wings of the supposedly dragon-shaped group of stars.

“I-- I think I see it,” Esme said. Alistair’s heart fluttered at the slightly lighter tone of her voice. He had to find another constellation. Turning to the south, he pointed again.

“That one is Fervenial, the oak tree.”

“Where?”

“Just follow the dragon’s tail and swoop slightly to the right. See that bright blue star there?”

“I thought you said swooping was bad.”

“Ha!” Alistair laughed. “I did, didn’t I? Well, I stand by that statement, except when following the tail of a pretend High Dragon made of stars. In all other circumstances, swooping is still bad.”

“With all these exceptions to the rules, the directions may be hard to follow.” Esme turned to smile at him. “Show me another.”

“Let’s see,” Alistair mumbled as he scoured the skies. “Tenebrium is usually easy to find for first-timers because it’s so big. There it is.” Alistair pointed directly above their heads. “It’s in the shape of a large owl. The stars connect just...there and there.”

“I think I see it,” Esme replied. “I’ve only really seen pictures of them in books, but they feel familiar. Like old friends I’ve forgotten.”

“That’s one way of thinking about it. I hope they can become just old friends for you, not forgotten ones.”

“What about Fenrir?”

“The White Wolf, eh?” Alistair turned to give Esme a half-smile.

“I’ve always liked animals.” Esme shrugged in reply.

“Well, just as the stories say, he is fairly elusive and tricky to find. Let’s see…” Alistair’s voice trailed off as he struggled to find the small constellation. 

“Ah, there he is!” Alistair said excitedly. He watched Esme try to follow his finger from her spot near the fire, but she just shook her head. “He’s just north of us, right here.”

“I can’t see him. I’m not sure what I’m looking for,” Esme said sadly.

“I’ll show you.”

Impulsively, Alistair got up from his own bedroll and walked to Esme. Quickly dropping onto the ground, he laid down next to her, shoulder to shoulder, and pointed toward the small group of stars.

“He looks kind of like a box, just there.” Alistair pointed, trying to hold his finger still, just above their heads. Until that moment, Alistair had not noticed how close he was to his fellow Warden. As usual, he had acted without thinking, and now, he was uncomfortably close to this woman who made his heart leap. He could feel the heat radiating from her shoulder as it touched his, and it sent a slight shiver through his bones.

“Are you alright?” Esme turned to face him. “You’re not cold, are you?”

Those eyes were breathtaking. He felt them bore into his head, his chest heaving with a fire he had never felt before.

“Um, of course. Just a chill in the air. I’m sure it will pass.” Alistair wasn’t sure if he was glad that she turned away to look at the stars again or if he missed those brilliant eyes staring back at him, despite the nervous shiver she had sent down his spine. He studied her features as she followed his finger to the stars above, staring intently.

“I think I found him,” she whispered earnestly. Raising a hand next to his, she pointed above them. “Is that it? The bright star on the right and then… around like this?”

Reluctantly, Alistair tore his gaze from Esme and looked where she was pointing in the night sky.

“Yes, you found him. You trickster you.”

“Are you talking to me or the Wolf?” Esme asked with a smirk.

“Maybe a bit of both?”

She turned to smile at him again and he struggled to control his breathing. 

They lay in silence for a moment or two. Eventually, however, Alistair couldn’t take the awkward quiet and began to point out more of the constellations he could find.

“Do you know all of them?” Esme finally asked. “I mean, do you know where they can all be found?”

“Well, not all of them can be found at the same time,” Alistair replied. “Some of them are in the winter sky and change with the seasons. I don’t know all of the constellations, but I know many of them. I spent a few too many nights at the monastery sleeping outside when I got in trouble, which was often enough. The Grand Cleric had what she thought were clever ideas for punishments. She didn’t know I actually enjoyed being outside.”

“Yes,” Esme sighed next to him. “I think I can understand how that might feel - to enjoy being outside, that is. It’s all new to me. I mean, of course we went outside of the Tower, but not at night….not like this.”

Alistair didn’t know how to respond. Her voice was so quiet, almost reverent as they stared up at the stars together. He didn’t want to move. He felt like he could stay next to her like this forever, except for the slight ache in his lower back from the uncomfortable position on the ground. But he would tolerate that if it meant he could stay next to her.

“It’s moments like this that make me think the Maker hasn’t really abandoned us,” Esme said quietly. “Not with all the beauty he leaves around us.”

“You know, I’ve never really thought of it that way,” Alistair replied. He didn’t consider himself a particularly faithful person, but he could appreciate the sentiment. It was a beautiful moment with beautiful stars and a beautiful companion. He couldn’t imagine things being much better than they were.

“You might be right,” he finally concluded.

“I’m sad to see the sun coming up,” Esme replied with a sigh. “It was nice to look at the stars with you.”

Alistair looked to the east. The sky was indeed beginning to lighten on the horizon. 

“Well, that’s the nice thing about stars,” he said as he sat up slowly. “They’ll come around again tonight. Perhaps we can try to find a few more new friends in the sky then?”

Alistair smiled at Esme as he stood and leaned down to offer her his hand.

“I’d like that,” she replied with a grin, accepting his hand and standing next to him.

“Anyhow, you’re up now, right? Let’s pull up camp and get a move on.”

As Alistair packed his small number of items and rolled up his bedroll, he stole glances at Esme. He watched as she occasionally looked quickly to the sky, smiling to herself each time.

He liked to see her smile, especially when she thought no one was watching. It made him smile, too. 

And with that, he resolved to try to see the world differently. He had often seen the world for all the negative in it. Abandoned by his father, sent away from his home as a child, living in a monastery where he was miserable and hated, Alistair had not known much joy or love in his life. But neither had Esme. In fact, she might have had more trials than he had, but yet, she had found beauty in the simple, cold light of the stars.

Despite all the unfair hands she had been dealt, Esme’s response was to see the beauty in the world around her. It was refreshing. 

Maybe Alistair was doomed. Maybe they were all doomed. But in the middle of all the doom and despair and darkspawn, Esme had found something lovely.

Alistair had found something lovely, too. And as the sun rose and their party departed the small campsite, Alistair decided to hang on to the feeling of warmth and peace Esme had brought him for as long as he could.

  
  



	4. Rest, and tell us of your battles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, dear readers, for the kudos, bookmarks, and subs. Your support means so much!
> 
> And now, for another chapter with our awkward Wardens. Thanks for reading!

“So let’s talk about your mother, for a moment.”

It was one way to start a conversation. Everyone had been so quiet since they had pulled up camp. Alistair himself had been quiet all morning, thinking about Duncan and the friends he had lost. But by the time they hit noonday, he was uncomfortable in the silence. Worried that he would say something stupid and spoil the sweet note on which he had left his early morning stargazing conversation with Esme, he opted to talk to Morrigan instead.

He instantly regretted that choice.

“I’d rather talk about your mother,” Morrigan replied with a sneer.

"There's nothing to talk about. And besides, isn't your mother a scary witch who lives in the middle of a forest? Much more interesting,” Alistair retorted.

“To you, perhaps. You would find the moss growing upon a stone interesting.”

Alistair didn’t have a great comeback and he was starting to be more than a little irritated. He had only wanted to have some conversation on the way to Lothering. He had not meant to pick a fight. What had been his innocent attempts at communication had turned into a slew of insults from, undoubtedly, one of his least favorite people in the world.

“You know what’s more interesting than that?” he asked, quickening his pace to catch up to Morrigan in front of him. “Apostates. Mages outside of the Tower. That’s illegal, you know.”

“You did not read that in a book somewhere, did you? I hope the small letters did not strain you overmuch.”

“Or we could not talk about your mother.” Alistair shrugged. “That works for me.”

“Quiet, both of you,” Esme said as she halted her step. Alistair stopped walking instantly. Had he upset Esme? He had only wanted to have some light conversation. Had he gone too far with his comments about apostate mages? He hadn’t really considered what Esme would take from that remark. He needed to be more careful when he spoke about mages. Old habits as a templar-in-training died hard, but Esme wasn’t an apostate. She was a Grey Warden with leave from the Tower. The word was meant for Morrigan, not for Esme. Perhaps the exchange had gotten a little out of hand. He hadn’t meant to offend.

Once he stopped letting his anxiety ramble, Alistair finally realized why Esme had stopped them.

On the road, running toward them, was a huge mabari war hound. It’s pace didn’t slow when it saw them. To the contrary, the dog ran faster when their party made eye contact with it. Alistair admitted feeling a small amount of apprehension as the hound’s teeth flashed in the sunlight.

Esme, for her part, was fearless. She took a few steps forward, in front of Alistair and Morrigan, and knelt down as the dog approached. To Alistair’s relief and surprise, the mabari jumped and barked excitedly when it reached Esme. Then, it turned back the direction it had come and growled.

“Good boy,” Alistair heard Esme say as she reached for her staff. Confused, Alistair looked up and realized why she had praised the animal. A party of darkspawn was approaching menacingly down the road, and the hound had alerted them to it. 

Alistair grabbed his own sword and shield and said, “Ready?” Moving next to Esme, he watched for her reaction.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” She gave him a wink and a nod. “I’ll keep you healed. Go!”

Charging forward, Alistair found the mabari by his side. He could see and hear Esme and Morrigan’s magic flying around him, and occasionally, he felt Esme’s healing touch. Each time she cast a spell to renew him, he felt a thrill that he struggled to quash each time. He knew they were just fighting darkspawn like they had at the Tower of Ishal. It was just business. There was the work of killing darkspawn to be done. But somehow, he felt warm knowing she was watching out for him. 

It was a new sensation. Definitely not a feeling he was accustomed to, knowing that someone else had his back. But he could get used to it.

Returning his focus to the task before him, Alistair shouted and swung his sword, chopping at the crowd of darkspawn around him. When one of the creatures ran loose and tried to reach Esme and Morrigan behind him, the dog spun around and bit at their heels, forcing them to the ground where Alistair could finish them off.

When the last darkspawn fell, Alistair turned and walked toward Esme.

“You alright back here?” he asked, slightly out of breath.

“Yes, we’re fine. You did a good job keeping them off us,” she replied.

Alistair shrugged. “I told you we work well together.” He tossed her a sheepish grin, while Morrigan made some noise of disgust.

“And by the way, about this dog, I--” Alistair’s sentence was cut off by the dog itself as the hound found its way over to Esme. The animal looked up to her for approval. Esme bent down and gave the hound a scratch behind the ears.

Morrigan was definitely not keen on the dog. After a brief conversation about how the hound was likely the one that imprinted on Esme at Ostagar, Esme stood up and smiled.

“I’m keeping him,” she announced. 

“Blech,” Morrigan replied, and marched in front of them towards Lothering. “Suit yourself. But I will not have a mangy, stinky mutt near my area in camp.” Over her shoulder, she shouted, “Neither the furry one nor Alistair!”

“Hey! You--” Alistair was about to follow after Morrigan, but he stopped when Esme lightly touched his arm.

“Ignore her,” she said with a smile. Alistair blushed at how quickly he had been ready to argue with Morrigan again. 

“She does have a way of baiting me, doesn’t she?” he said with a half-smile. Esme just chuckled as she bent to loot some of the darkspawn bodies nearby.

“Shouldn’t we catch up with Morrigan?” he asked as he stooped to help her.

“She won’t go terribly far without us,” Esme replied. “And besides, I think the two of you could use some cooling off.”

“You don’t say. I thought we were getting along just fine.”

Esme raised one eyebrow at him and Alistair laughed.

“Ok, ok. I’ll try not to let her get to me so much.” 

When they had gleaned all they could from the monsters’ belongings, they set off on their journey again. Alistair was grateful that Morrigan had stayed in front of them. She was far enough ahead that he could still see her maroon-hooded figure, but not close enough to hear his conversation with Esme. Not only was Alistair rid of Morrigan’s looming presence for the moment, but he had Esme to himself again. 

“So what are you going to call him?” Alistair asked, motioning to the mabari that was faithfully marching at Esme’s side.

“I thought I might call him Alistair,” Esme said with a smile. “That would really be confusing for Morrigan.”

“Hey!” Alistair replied indignantly. “I thought it was just Morrigan I had to worry about with the insults.”

Esme laughed loudly enough that Morrigan turned over her shoulder to look at them briefly.

“I’m just teasing, Alistair.” Esme chuckled. “You are too cute when you get all mottled.”

Cute? She said he was cute? What did that mean? Well, he knew what the word meant, of course. But what did it  _ really _ mean? Alistair knew he would hopelessly analyze that comment for days now. And he found he was too tongue-tied to push Esme for more information.

Words were not his friends in moments like this.

Alistair struggled to regain his composure without betraying too much emotion in his face as he walked. 

_ Just act normal _ , he thought.  _ Normal steps. One foot. Two foot. One foot. Two...feet? Blast! I can’t even think straight enough to walk. _

After several deep breaths, Alistair managed to slow his heartbeat back to a normal pace. He glanced briefly at Esme out of the corner of his eye. She was looking down at the road beneath her feet as she walked. No facial expression that he could read. But what was more interesting to Alistair as he managed to regain some of his senses was that beneath her hood, Esme’s skin looked a little pinker than usual.

_ Is she blushing? Really? _

He shook his head. Maybe he was imagining things. They had just fought darkspawn. She was probably flushed from magical exertion or...whatever. That’s probably all it was. He shouldn’t make too much of it. 

Besides, he had his duty to think of. All of this was foolish anyway. He was a Grey Warden with a mission. He knew from the moment he had felt that impending doom in the Tower of Ishal that this was a bad idea. And he still agreed with his initial sentiment. This was still a bad idea.

But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, he liked the idea of Esme blushing and calling him cute. He couldn’t deny it.

“Griffon,” Esme said with a cough, clearing her throat. She stopped walking and bent to pet the  mabari, still faithfully at her side. “I think I will call him Griffon.”

“But…” Alistair paused, confused. “He’s a dog.”

The mabari turned to look at him and whined slightly.

“Of course I know he’s a dog,” Esme retorted. “But I think our small band of Grey Wardens should have a Griffon by their side, don’t you?”

Alistair’s eyes lit up. 

“I guess in a way,” he said slowly, “that increases our numbers to three, if we count Griffon among them.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Esme smiled. “You hear that, boy? You’re a Grey Warden now. You didn’t even have to drink that nasty stuff to become one.”

Griffon barked excitedly in agreement.

“I think he likes the name,” she said, starry eyes staring up at Alistair with a grin. To confirm, Griffon barked twice.

“We didn’t have any animals or pets at the Tower,” Esme continued as she resumed walking. “I know it may sound silly, but I mostly studied them in books. I know we have battles to fight and an Archdemon to kill, but is it terrible that somehow I’m excited to try and do things that I never could have done while living in the Tower?”

Esme looked to Alistair for support. Alistair briefly wondered what other things Esme hoped she could do outside of the Tower, other than own a dog.

“I don’t think it’s terrible at all,” Alistair said reassuringly, matching her step. “I had a lot of similar feelings when I left the monastery. Duncan saved me from a life of drudgery.”

“I’d like to hear more about that,” Esme said eagerly. “Why did Duncan recruit you? What was your life like before...all this?”

“You really want to hear about me?” Alistair asked, surprised. No one ever really cared to hear about his life. Granted, he didn’t think it was very interesting, but still, no one had asked him about it before.

“Yes, I would,” Esme answered cheerfully. “We have a long way to go today, and I’m interested to know where one of the three remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden came from.”

That smile again. He couldn’t resist it. She would have her way.

So Alistair indulged both Esme and himself in his tale, with a bit of caution. As he began to tell Esme more about his life, he realized there was a secret he was not quite ready to share yet. He was careful to avoid the parts about his younger years and the Arl of Redcliffe. It was a part of his life that, frankly, he avoided even thinking about, let alone talking about. He knew he would have to tell her eventually, but today was not that day. 

Instead, he told her about the Grand Cleric, the other templar trainees at the monastery, and the sorry state in which Duncan had found him. Esme seemed to eat up every word. When he paused, she would look up at him patiently and wait until he began speaking again.

_ Maker, those eyes. I can’t get enough of them. _

“There was a grand tourney held in Duncan’s honor when he came to visit the monastery about six months ago,” Alistair said, unsure how much detail he wanted to go into about how terribly the tourney had actually gone. He decided that he didn’t need to embarrass himself too much. Things were going so well for him at the moment. “I did not win the tourney, to say the least. But Duncan still felt I would make a good addition to the Wardens. And so, here I am.”

“That’s it?” Esme asked. “There has to be more to that story. He just conscripted you like that?”

Alistair shifted uncomfortably. He did not feel like telling Esme that he lost the tourney, and badly.

“I think he could tell I was miserable in the monastery,” he finally said. “I had no desire to be a templar. Duncan saved me from that life, and I think he knew that I would much prefer to be a Warden than chained to the Chantry.”

“I can certainly understand that.” Esme nodded in reply. “Sometimes it felt like that in the Circle, too. Duncan had a way of...rescuing people from their own fate.”

“Yes, I suppose he did. He definitely rescued me.”

Alistair could hear the sadness in his own voice. He was sure Esme heard it, too. He had tried to be strong, but thoughts of Duncan still made his heart ache. 

After a brief pause, Esme said, “Do you want to talk about Duncan?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Alistair answered, almost too quickly. “I know you didn’t know him as long as I did.”

“He was like a father to you. I understand. Irving was like that for me, too. I can’t imagine how I would feel if I lost him.”

“I… should have handled it better.” Alistair sighed. He was embarrassed that he had taken Duncan’s death so hard. Yes, he had cared very much for his mentor, but that didn’t mean Alistair, a grown man and a Grey Warden, was warranted in falling apart like he had. “Duncan warned me right from the beginning that this could happen.”

But Esme didn’t judge Alistair when he got sad. They spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening talking about Duncan while they walked together. Esme asked him to share more stories about his mentor in the Wardens. She laughed with him when the stories turned humorous. She watched him intently when his voice turned melancholy. But mostly, she just listened. Alistair couldn’t remember a time he felt quite so carefree and...like himself.

By the time the sun was getting low in the sky, Alistair realized that he had talked about himself and Duncan for too long.

_ How selfish of me _ , he thought.  _ All this time, and I still really know nothing about her. I don’t know where she came from, if she has family, or why Duncan recruited her. Vomiting words all day about my own sad story gets me nowhere. _

But still, it had felt good to talk. He resolved to spend more time asking Esme about her story the next time they had a long chat.

“I think Duncan came from Highever, or so he said. Maybe I’ll go up there sometime. See about putting up something in his honor. I don’t know,” Alistair concluded after a particularly long speech. Glancing over, he recognized a look of matching sadness on Esme’s face. She may not have known Duncan as long as he had, but she clearly had cared for him, too.

_ Why did Duncan recruit her? What happened to her in the Circle Tower? _

“Have you… had someone close to you die? Not that I mean to pry, I’m just…” 

He wished he hadn’t said anything as soon as he opened his mouth. The look on her face made his heart plummet through his stomach.

But she didn’t skip a beat.

“No, not really. Not since I went to the Tower,” she said softly.

“That must have felt a lot like when I got sent to the Chantry. You mages don’t even get a say in the matter, after all.” He winced at his own reply.

You mages? Why did he always come up with the worst phrases in the worst moments.

They were quiet again as they walked. Morrigan had slowed her pace and was now just a few paces in front of them. 

“We should make camp for the night,” the witch said sharply over her shoulder. 

As they stepped off the road in search of a safe place to camp, Alistair tried to recover the conversation with Esme. 

“Thank you. Really, I mean it. It was good to talk about Duncan, at least a little,” he said.

Esme lifted her eyes and smiled at him. “Maybe I’ll go to Highever with you, when you go.”

“I’d like that,” Alistair said, surprised she would offer, but glad she was interested. “So would he, I think.”

“Ugh,” Morrigan made her characteristic noise of disgust as she walked quickly away, finding a place  by a nearby stream to set up her tent. Alistair was beginning to enjoy pushing Morrigan to the point of disgust. At least it meant she left him alone with Esme more often.

“No idea what’s wrong with her,” Alistair said with a shrug.

“Don’t mind her,” Esme said, returning his shrug with her own. “Everyone is fighting their own battles here.”

“I know what kind of battles I’m fighting and I’m sure you are fighting some, too, but I don’t see what kind of battle Morrigan is fighting.” Alistair clenched his teeth. “Except to try to make my life miserable.”

With a knowing smile, Esme gently touched his arm. Alistair felt his skin light on fire where her fingers made contact.

“You and I have lost Duncan, but Morrigan just left her mother. Flemeth might be a ‘scary witch of the wilds,’ as you call her, but she’s still the only mother Morrigan has. Maybe think of it that way.”

Alistair was stunned. Of course Esme would see the situation in a totally different light, and of course she would find a way to see even Morrigan with compassion. In the short time he had known her, it was clear she viewed the world differently, through a lens of care for others.

He was ashamed to have thought so badly of Morrigan, until he looked up and saw Griffon sitting by Morrigan with his tail wagging.

“How odd,” Morrigan said loudly, pointedly looking at Esme and Alistair as she spoke. “We now have a dog and Alistair is still the dumbest one in the party.”

Alistair opened his mouth to reply, but Esme just shook her head.

“Don’t let her get to you, Alistair,” she said. “Besides--”

She paused as Griffon came running back to sit next to her while she bent to start a fire.

“You promised we could find more constellations tonight. I’ve been looking forward to this all day. Perhaps I can even find Fenrir again to show Griffon.”

The butterflies rose in his throat at the most inconvenient moments. She had been looking forward to spending time with him? Well, she said she had been looking forward to finding constellations...but  _ with him _ , right? That implied she wanted to spend time with him.

Griffon, for his part, barked happily at the mention of his name.

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” he said, dropping his gear and moving forward to lay out their bedrolls near the fire. “That’s a much better way to end the day.”

Esme looked up at him gratefully and said, “I completely agree.”


	5. Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting

“Lothering. Nowhere else does the smell of shit in a rose garden seem so natural.”

Alistair laughed heartily. He had been surprised to happen upon Ser Donall in the Lothering Chantry, but it was good to hear a familiar voice after the ordeal of the past few days.

“I guess that’s one way of describing it. I’m sad to hear that your journey so far has been unpleasant,” he said to his old friend.

“Alistair,” Esme interrupted. “I’m going to see if I can find the Revered Mother while we are here. Why don’t you stay and catch up with the good knight, if you’d like?”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll be here when you’re ready to move on,” Alistair replied with a nod. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Ser Donall. I hope you are successful in your quest,” Esme said before turning away.

“Thank you, my lady,” Donall replied. “And I wish you the Maker’s blessing on your quest as well.“

Alistair watched Esme leave. It was foolish and he could feel Donall watching him, but Alistair found it harder and harder to take his eyes off his fellow Warden whenever she was around.

“I say, Alistair,” Donnall coughed. “I thought you had gone to your death when I heard you were recruited into the Grey Wardens. But you lucked out better than I did, in more ways than one.”

“What do you mean?” Alistair asked.

“Oh, nothing really. Just that Ser Henric was a fine traveling companion. Good company and all that, but he definitely wasn’t as easy on the eyes as your friend there.”

“Yes, well,” Alistair cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “We have a mission to complete. I hadn’t noticed much more than her, you know, skill. With a staff.”

Ser Donall’s grin widened with each awkward sentence.

“A  _ mage’s  _ staff. Maker’s breath. You know what I meant,” Alistair sighed.

“Yes, yes,” Donall smiled. “I do. But you might as well enjoy the view while you’re at it.”

Alistair wasn’t sure how he felt about this conversation. He had been friends with Ser Donall as children. When they grew older, Donall was one of the few who had come to visit him at the monastery. Despite their long friendship, however, this conversation was not only awkward but also aggravating. Alistair didn’t like the thought that someone else might have an eye for Esme. 

But while that thought bothered him, it concerned him more that he even had these feelings at all. Just another distraction from what he was supposed to be doing. Another diversion from his duty.

“So,” Alistair said, pressing forward on his toes and trying to change the subject, “tell me how things really are at Redcliffe.”

“They’re not good, Alistair. Not good at all,” Donall replied. “The arlessa is, quite frankly, going out of her mind with worry. There are too many new faces at the castle. Not all of them are people that I feel we can trust, but the arlessa is desperate for help. When she said to look for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, what were we knights to do but obey?”

Donall pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

“I would rather have stayed to protect the arlessa and the family,” he continued. “But I was ordered to go, so here I am. Do you think you will be able to go to Redcliffe soon? I would feel better knowing that a friendly face would be there to check on things.”

“I hope so,” Alistair said slowly. He did want to return to Redcliffe soon. He was very worried about Eamon, Teagan, Connor, and yes, even Isolde, but at the same time, he was dreading the conversation he needed to have with Esme before traveling to his childhood home. He spared a glance down the nave of the Chantry to see if Esme was returning. When he saw that she was not, he sighed audibly. Donall must have sensed the hesitation in his voice.

“She doesn’t know, does she?” the knight asked. Alistair met his friend’s gaze, understanding exactly what Donall was implying.

“No,” he replied. “Not yet.”

“Ah, well, I don’t envy you that conversation.” Donall shook his head. “But I really should be off. I may jest, but I truly wish you and your companions good luck. With everything. If this is truly a Blight, we are all doomed if you don’t succeed. But I have faith in you, old friend.”

Donall motioned toward the back of the Chantry where Esme had finally reemerged from the Revered Mother’s study. Her face lit up when she saw Alistair waiting. Alistair thought he heard Donall chuckle lightly under his breath before the knight placed his hand on Alistair’s shoulder in farewell.

“Maker be with you, Donall,” Alistair said, returning the gesture. “I hope we meet again.”

By the time Esme, Morrigan, and Griffon reached him, Alistair was alone again.

“You know, I’ve always wondered...” Alistair began as they walked toward the door. But before he could continue, Morrigan interrupted him.

“Oh, here we go,” she said. “Does it not cause you pain to ponder things beyond your ability to comprehend?”

“How do you know it’s beyond my abilities if you don’t know what I’m going to say?” Alistair retorted.

“Need I answer that question, Alistair?” Morrigan smirked.

“I don’t want your answer, you sneaky witch-thief,” Alistair said with frustration.

“Always so clever…”

“Alistair,” Esme said, ignoring Morrigan and drawing his attention back to her. “What were you wondering about?”

Thankful for Esme’s intervention, Alistair asked, “ You ever wonder if that's an accurate likeness of Andraste?” He pointed to the statute of the prophet at the back of the Chantry. “Maybe she was ugly. Maybe she had buck teeth. How would we know?”

“These are the sorts of things you wonder about?” Morrigan rolled her eyes. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing that your fellow Warden does not have buck teeth. Otherwise, your long stares in her direction would have an entirely different meaning.”

Alistair was very grateful for his helmet that hid the shade of purple his cheeks and neck were turning. As they left the Chantry, Alistair kept the hot helmet on despite the heat of the afternoon sun.

“If I did stare, which I’m not saying I do,” he said, “how do you know that I’m not just watching her for her protection. She  _ is  _ the only other Grey Warden in Ferelden. We have to stick together and look out for one another.”

“The day that Esme needs  _ your  _ protection is a day we are all doomed,” Morrigan said with a huff.

“Focus, for a moment,” Esme said sharply, demanding Morrigan and Alistair’s attention. Griffon barked in acknowledgement. “We need to get supplies. I, for one, could use some food other than dried meats, and I could definitely go for some new soaps as well. I haven’t bathed in days. Could we figure out a place to buy such things instead of arguing over Andraste’s buck teeth?”

Alistair looked quickly to see if Esme was making light of him, but from the expression on her face, she was not. She smiled at him sweetly and pointed to the inn just beyond the Chantry.

The rest of the day was more eventful than Alistair had expected of a quick stop for supplies. They recruited a lay sister of the Chantry, fought wolves and bandits, rescued a qunari warrior from starvation and death, and, finally, purchased some supplies. He was exhausted as they walked back to camp -- new companions, supplies, and all -- and pondered all the people they had managed to help in just one day. He tried to stifle his emotions, but found that it was growing harder and harder to quash the feelings of admiration he had for Esme, who led them not only with purpose but also with compassion.

There were several new additions to their little band now, and Alistair wasn’t sure what this meant for the budding friendship that had been growing between him and Esme. Would she still have time for him? 

As they left Lothering for the evening, Alistair hung back from the rest of the party and walked alone. He watched Esme laugh as she talked with Leliana. His fellow Warden seemed to enjoy the company of the other woman, much more than Morrigan’s company. He was happy about that at least. Although he knew he was staring, just as Morrigan had chided him for doing, he was glad Esme could find moments of happiness.

While they were walking, something caught his eye in the strange light of dusk. He wasn’t sure he would have noticed it if he had been walking with the rest of the group or talking to Esme. But there it was, all the same. 

Just off the road was a solitary rose bush. And hanging on the rose bush was a single rose.

_ Well, there’s the rose part of the shit-in-a-rose-garden smell, _ Alistair thought, smiling as he remembered Ser Donall’s comment from earlier.  _ How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness? _

Just as he had that thought, he heard Esme’s lilting laughter floating back to him, breaking the stillness of the cool twilight. His heart warmed as he listened to her happy tones slice the silence.

Unsure exactly why he did it, Alistair bent slowly and took a knife from his pocket. Slicing the rose at the base of the stem, he pocketed the flower gently into his pack, finding a place where he hoped it would not be damaged. Once he knew the rose was secure, he quickened his step to rejoin the party.

“Did I hear you say that you bought new soaps?” Leliana asked Esme as they approached a promising campsite.

“Yes! I am positively  _ aching _ for a bath. Do you want to join me?” Esme asked enthusiastically.

“Please,” Leliana said. “After fighting the teyrn’s men, bandits, wolves, and all manner of vile creatures today, I am very much wanting to feel clean again.”

“Why don’t you two ladies enjoy your bath?” Alistair said as he bent to light a fire. “I can set up camp for us here.”

“And what of me, Alistair?” Morrigan said. “Am I not a lady who you would consider also wanting a bath.”

“In short, no,” Alistair replied, arranging the kindling for a fire without looking up. But he did take some pleasure in the “harumph” that came from Morrigan’s direction.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Alistair,” Leliana said.

“Yes, thank you very much,” Esme nodded. “We won’t be gone long.”

He didn’t watch the women leave. Morrigan’s earlier comments about him staring at Esme had come to mind. Instead, he kept himself busy to stop his thoughts from wandering to the women bathing in a nearby stream.

_ Blessed Andraste, with or without buck teeth _ , he thought.  _ I need to keep my hands busy. _

He set to work on pitching multiple tents once the fire was lit and a freshly-plucked bird was placed on the spit. They had purchased many supplies in Lothering, not all of them food and soaps. There had been new poison and trap materials to buy, as well as individual tents for each member of the party that did not already have one -- except for Griffon, of course, who would stay with Esme in her tent.

_ Ah, the life of a dog. To stay with a beautiful woman in her tent _ . Alistair quickened his pace while setting up his own tent.  _ Focus. You have work to do, man. _

He spent some time deciding where each tent should be placed. Perhaps too much time. He was aware that Sten, the new qunari member of their band, was watching him inquisitively. With care, he tried to make sure that his tent was next to Esme’s but not too close. He did not want to be accused of anything untoward.

“Do you need some help?” Sten said as he approached Alistair by the fire.

“I’m almost finished,” Alistair replied, “but a little help would be much appreciated.”

The two men set to the task of setting up the campsite in only a few more minutes. Once the job was complete, they sat by the fire and waited for the bird on the spit to finish roasting.

“So, you’re a qunari,” Alistair said, trying to make conversation.

“Obviously,” Sten replied.

“What’s that like?” Alistair asked.

“What is what like?” 

“Being a qunari.”

“You ask very odd questions.”

“I don’t think it’s an odd question. I’d really like to know.” Alistair renewed his question in earnest, trying to be friendly.

“I might as well ask you what it is like to be a human. Would you know how to answer that question?”

“Fair enough,” Alistair said, throwing his hands up in the air. Silence fell upon the two men again. Alistair found his mind wandering again to the women bathing in the stream. Searching for a distraction, he made another attempt at conversing with the warrior next to him.

“Don’t you ever talk? You know, make polite conversation just to put people at ease?” he asked.

“You mean that I should remark upon the weather before I cut off a man’s head?”

“... Nevermind.”

Alistair gave up. Sten had been useful in setting up the campsite, but clearly he was not going to help Alistair maintain his focus on the task at hand rather than women taking baths. Turning behind him, he reached for his pack to take out whatever belongings he would need for the night. When he uncinched the drawstring, the first thing that caught his eye was the rose he had picked earlier. But as Alistair pulled the rose out of his bag, the nearby qunari’s presence made Alistair feel more self-conscious than ever. Sten was a warrior entirely focused on his duty. Even in friendly conversation, Alistair could not distract Sten from the essence of who he was.

Yet, here was Alistair, quietly thumbing a flower by the campfire instead of focusing on his duty.

With a quiet sigh, Alistair replaced the flower safely among his belongings. He should just get rid of it. It was a silly thing. These emotions were a waste of time. They distracted him from his duty and the safety of their party. But somehow, he couldn’t make himself discard the token of beauty and perfection as his mind recalled the sound of Esme’s laughter floating to his ears when he picked it. 

He was glad he put the rose away when he did, however, because it was at that moment that Leliana, Esme, and Morrigan returned to camp.

“We could smell the meat on the spitfire from the water,” Leliana said with a smile. “You have done a very good job of setting up camp, Alistair.”

“At your service,” Alistair said with a smile, motioning for the women to sit by the fire. It was then that he noticed what Esme was wearing. She had returned from bathing in a different outfit than her typical mage robes. Instead of the long dress she had worn since he met her, she now wore tight-fitting leggings and a loose, light-colored tunic with a belt around her waist. The leggings and tunic hugged her figure in all the right places and Alistair felt his stomach flutter. Leliana was wearing a similar outfit, but it was not Leliana who had Alistair’s attention.

Esme’s features appeared to glow in the light of the fire. For once, she appeared entirely at ease. Her skin was refreshed and her eyes sparkled as she and Leliana continued to talk while enjoying the roasted bird Alistair had prepared.

She was absolutely stunning, but not because of what she was wearing. Her countenance was lighter, more carefree with Leliana around. She seemed almost… happy. He wished Esme could be that way with him.

“You...you bought different clothes in Lothering?” 

That was all he could think to say? It would have been better for him to keep his mouth shut.

“Yes, of course,” Esme answered slowly. “I can’t wear those robes all the time. Besides, they needed a good washing. It felt wonderful to have a bath. We can watch the camp if you would like a chance to bathe and change, Alistair.”

It was tempting. Alistair would love to shake off his armor and feel the cold water of the stream. But he apparently hesitated for too long, because next to him, Sten grunted and said, “I will take that opportunity, if Alistair will not.”

Alistair had no desire to continue his awkward time with the qunari at present. His attempts at good-natured conversation had failed, and besides, Alistair had done plenty of self-reflecting on his own inadequacies when compared with the dutiful qunari warrior. His pride was injured enough. Being near Sten would only accentuate those wounded feelings. 

Instead, Alistair decided to try to sleep it off.

“I think I will just turn in for the night,” he said. “I might try the stream in the morning before we leave.”

There was something odd in Esme’s expression when he said he was turning in.

“Oh,” she said softly, her eyes watching him carefully, “I guess if you’re tired, then I’ll see you in the morning.”

Was she sad that he was heading to bed early? That there would be no stargazing alone by the light of the fire tonight? No, Alistair was sure he was imagining that. She was probably just concerned for him with her usual compassion as she was for everyone else around her. He should not fool himself into thinking he was anything special.

“Of course,” he replied with a nod. “Good night.”

Alistair tried to tune out the quiet laughter and the hushed whispers of the two newfound friends by the fire while he discarded his armor inside his tent and made ready for bed. Lying on his bedroll, he stared at the canvas of his tent and sighed, sleep evading him. He wasn’t sure exactly what possessed him to do it, but eventually, he reached for his pack again, searching out the rose and placing it next to his bedroll.

“Such a silly thing,” he whispered to himself. “Better to be rid of it.”

But it was so beautiful and unique. It had been all alone by the dusty roadside. Somehow, amidst all the travelers and bandits and predators, that single rose had flourished.

Again, as before, Esme’s laughter floated across the air to his ears in his tent.

He couldn’t let it go. In the end, Alistair finally found sleep while breathing in the sweet smell of the rose next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to all of my readers so far for the kudos, bookmarks, and subs!
> 
> Just an FYI-- I am sorry in advance for the sporadic posting of chapters. Sometimes I will be able to update more quickly and sometimes not. I update when I have a chance to sit down and write, which usually happens on weekends, but not always. 
> 
> Thanks for your patience! It feels great to write again and to have the support of this community. :)


	6. Jealousy and torment consumed them all

Alistair was actually relieved to stay near Lothering for another night. Their small band of adventurers had not decided which group they would approach first with the Grey Warden treaties, which was just as well. They had some unfinished business in Lothering. Earning a bit of coin here and there couldn’t hurt on their journey, since they had started out with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

Well, Morrigan had more than that, but she was not inclined to share with anyone else, least of all Alistair.

After another long day helping the people of Lothering, Alistair again found himself exhausted as he plopped next to the campfire and started the evening stew. He had not risen early to wash in the stream like he had originally planned. He had been more exhausted than he thought and slept longer than anticipated. Since he was the only member of the party that had not yet enjoyed the relaxation of a bath, he let the others take over the task of making supper, gathered his belongings, and left to find the water.

Discarding his armor on the shore, Alistair sighed in the cool evening air, letting the water overtake him. He doused his head several times, enjoying the relaxing feeling of buoyancy in the water. It was an enormous difference to be weightless on the water rather than carrying around pounds of armor.

But the weightlessness could not last forever. After thoroughly scrubbing with the soaps Esme had let him borrow, Alistair rose from the water and dried off. He had followed Esme’s example and purchased some spare clothes. Alistair shook his head, embarrassed when he realized how long he was taking to situate his new leather belt on his hips just right and style his hair just so. He thought of Esme as he dressed, wondering what she would think of him in regular clothes and without a suit of armor, while simultaneously chiding himself for his foolishness.

But to his disappointment, she said nothing when he returned to camp. She did grace him with a smile as he joined the small crew in the firelight, but she made no comment on his new clothes or his hair. 

_ Waste of time _ , he thought.  _ It’s all terribly silly anyway. _

With a sigh, he filled himself a bowl of stew and looked around to determine the lay of the land. He would have enjoyed some light conversation if anyone would tolerate him, but as he surveyed the campsite, he realized he would most likely be eating alone. Esme was talking with Leliana, still enjoying the company of her new friend. Morrigan was already off in her own area of the campsite. Alistair had no desire to spend time with that witch anyway. And Sten… Well, Sten was nearby, but Alistair had failed at communicating with the qunari warrior the previous night, so he had little hope of success on a second occasion.

Quietly, Alistair hung his head over his bowl of stew and kept to himself. He struggled not to eavesdrop on the conversation between Esme and Leliana. He liked Leliana. She might be a bit crazy -- dreams of the Maker and all that -- but she was extremely talented with a bow and kind to boot. He liked people who were nice to him, and Leliana had been nothing but polite so far. Hence, he liked her.

However, as the evening wore on, Alistair felt something stirring in his chest that he did not like. What was it? He watched Esme talk with Leliana for what felt like hours. The two women had already spent most of the previous evening getting to know each other, and Alistair worried that his hidden fears were coming true. As they had picked up new companions, Alistair was losing time he would have spent with Esme without all these people around. It was ridiculous, and he knew it, but he still felt it. He was already beginning to miss the conversations they had together without the newcomers. He was never alone with Esme anymore.

What was this feeling? Jealousy? That’s what it was. He was jealous. 

He blushed and cursed himself at the realization. Why should he be jealous? He couldn’t keep Esme all to himself. She was clearly a unique and pleasant person, and they were the only Grey Wardens remaining in Ferelden, but that was it. Wasn’t it? They could never be anything more. It would be too distracting-- too difficult to separate duty and …

Duty and what? What was the other feeling he was too afraid to name? Love? No, that couldn’t be it. He had only known this woman for a week. Love was not something he could feel yet, even if he did care for her. Alistair would even admit he cared for Esme, but he could let it go no further than that. They were friends and fellow Wardens. That was all.

Shaking his head, Alistair returned to his stew. He had to put this folly behind him. He was not about to allow himself to give in to these feelings. It was a hopeless cause to love another Grey Warden, especially right now in the middle of a Blight. They had more important things to worry about, like Loghain and the darkspawn. He had to force all of these ill-fated feelings away.

“See?,” he said, turning to Griffon who had curled up next to him by the fire. “This is why I don’t spend time alone with my thoughts. It’s better for me to ramble on and on and keep my mind occupied. Don’t you agree?”

Griffon just tilted his head and whined at him inquisitively.

Sighing, Alistair continued to finish his food. Despite his inner conflict, he couldn’t stop his heart from fluttering as Esme rose from sitting by Leliana. Perhaps she would come and talk to him now. But Alistair’s heart sunk just as quickly as it had fluttered when he saw that she was not coming to sit by him. She walked to sit by Sten, and somehow, although Alistair had failed at the task, she managed to get Sten to speak with her. Alistair huffed under his breath with amazement. Of course Esme, of all people, could get the qunari warrior -- stoic as the stars -- to have a conversation with her. She could get a pet rock to talk to her if she tried hard enough. Her wily, magical, womanly ways could trick anyone into falling into those eyes and talking for hours.

His hopes rose again when Esme finished her conversation with Sten. Maybe now they would have some time alone together. But no, his hopes were equally dashed when Esme walked the long walk to Morrigan’s side of the camp.

_ Morrigan? _ he thought with disgust.  _ Morrigan? She will talk to Morrigan over me? _

Struggling to hide his disappointment, Alistair stared down at the last bits of stew in his bowl. He swirled them around and around with his spoon, over and over until they were no longer warm or appetizing in the least. With a disgruntled sigh, he tossed his bowl down next to him, splattering some of the contents on the ground. But he watched in dismay as some of the contents spilled on a particular brown boot -- one he hadn’t seen approach until it was too late.

“Was that meant for me?” Esme asked him, looking down at him with her hands on her hips.

“Not at all,” Alistair replied quickly. “I didn’t see you there. I was...distracted by my thoughts, such as they are.” 

With a chuckle, Esme sat down next to him. Heat emanated from her body, warming the entire side of his. 

_ Does everyone else feel this heat when she sits by them? _ , he wondered.

“I’m sorry,” he continued awkwardly, looking for something to wipe Esme’s boot with. “I should not have been so careless.”

“No harm done,” she said, pulling a rag off the pot from the fire. After cleaning off her shoe, she smiled at him and extended her foot. “See? All better?”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Alistair replied. “We couldn’t have you going off to battle with the darkspawn wearing rabbit stew stained boots, could we? The darkspawn would just try to lick you to death. Horribly unpleasant, or so I’ve heard.”

“Have you now?” she said with a half-smile. “I guess you will have to tell me more about what the Wardens taught you regarding darkspawn and their love of rabbit stew. Who knew those monsters had a penchant for the stringy and sinewy things of this world.”

Alistair didn’t know what to say to that. Esme’s mention of the Wardens had reminded him of the duty he felt to teach her about their predecessors, his mentors and friends. It made him a little sad, and he again pondered the feelings that he was afraid were developing everytime he looked at her.

But that thought made him look at her. Her hair neatly pulled back from her face with the back hanging free was absolutely beautiful. He found himself imagining what it would be like to run his fingers through that hair, loose and flowing over her shoulders.

“Alistair,” Esme said, returning his gaze with shining eyes. Alistair blushed as he realized he had been staring. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, of course,” he said, clearing his throat. “Just thinking about things.”

“What kind of things?”

Why must she probe him? How could he tell her that he could get lost in her eyes, or that he dreamed about holding her hand or kissing those rosy lips? How could he even admit those things to himself?

“Nothing really,” Alistair finally replied. “I was wondering, I guess, why it took you so long to come and talk with me tonight. I had hoped that we might still be able to spend some time together, even with all our new recruits.”

He didn’t want to look at her. He could feel her smiling at him, and he only hoped it was a smile of kindness, not one of laughter.

“Of course,” she said quickly to Alistair’s immense relief. “Were you worried I wasn’t going to come see you because I spent so much time with the others?”

“Yes, that’s it!” he replied in an exaggerated tone, hoping to spare himself embarrassment by turning the conversation into a joke. “I was worried you were going to ignore me now. My feelings were starting to be hurt when you were spending time with everyone else but me. Ow!”

He clutched at his chest while squinting his face in a faux expression of pain. To his relief, Esme laughed light-heartedly.

“Well, never fear, my fellow Grey Warden,” she said with a grin. “I did not forget you. I am simply trying to establish some good relationships with the people we will be traveling with. I think that’s important, don’t you? I mean, we have to work together for who knows how long.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Alistair replied. “But does that include Morrigan? I really don’t think we need to try that hard with her, do you?”

In response, Esme punched him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Yes, even with Morrigan,” she replied. “But whether or not I try to maintain a positive relationship with Morrigan, you’re...different from the others.”

Curious, Alistair looked at her side-long next to him. She wasn’t looking at him. She was staring very intently at her nails as she picked at them, wearing an expression like she had swallowed a bug. And were her cheeks changing color? No, it must be his imagination.

Sensing she was uncomfortable, he again tried to make light of the conversation.

“Different? Different how? Does that mean you don’t want to have a good relationship with me? I’m part of this party, too!” he exclaimed, again clutching at his chest.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” For the first time since Alistair had met her, Esme actually appeared truly discomfited. “What I meant is...you’re different because…”

She was struggling for words. Alistair tried to ignore the fact that he was silently enjoying this, as Esme’s cheeks were undeniably flushed now.

“We’re both Grey Wardens,” she said in one quick breath. “That’s it. You know, duty and all. We have something in common that the others don’t. That makes you different. That makes our...friendship...different.”

He was disappointed. He wasn’t sure exactly what he had hoped she would say, but that wasn’t it. He couldn’t find a clever quip to drag more out of her, so he simply said, “Oh, I see. I suppose that makes sense. Talk to all the non-Grey Wardens first, hmm?”

He was sure she could hear the disappointment in his voice, but she said nothing else. They sat in silence for what felt like an hour, but truly, it was only a minute or two. At length, he heard Esme clear her throat.

“And, well, I have this habit,” she said slowly, avoiding his gaze and still staring into the fire, “of saving the best for last.”

Now that comment, he couldn’t resist.

“The best for last? What do you mean?” he asked, smiling and enjoying that Esme was full-fledged blushing now. He found it absolutely adorable. “The best what? The best warrior? The best Grey Warden? The best Fereldan? The absolute best person?”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” she said, throwing her hands up toward him in exasperation while grinning at him foolishly.

Alistair wasn’t exactly sure he did know what she meant, but he would take what he could get in the moment. Altogether, she had said her relationship with him was different than the others, albeit because of his “Grey Wardeniness,” and that she saved him for last because he was “the best.” He could handle that for now. 

The conversation had evoked those feelings in his chest again. He had given up on stifling them for the evening. The euphoria was too glorious. He felt almost as if he were back in the water, floating and staring at the setting sun over the stream. Light and buoyant with these feelings he knew he shouldn’t have, but he desired them nonetheless. 

He wasn’t doing anything wrong. It wasn’t like he was acting on them. He hadn’t shirked his duty. He had protected Esme today. They had battled giant spiders, bears, and more bandits, and through it all, he had been her protector, standing between her and blighted creatures.

He would always be her protector, if she would let him.

“I do have something for you,” she said, looking at him slyly with one eye. “Bodahn and his boy over there had some...interesting items for sale. I thought you might like this.”

She held out her hand and Alistair extended his in return. Gently, she placed a small confection in his palm. 

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Can’t you tell?” she said. “It’s a sugar cake. You know, for eating? We didn’t have many sweets in the Circle Tower. I absolutely love sugary things. Don’t tell anyone, but I spent a little money on one for you and one for me. I thought you might keep my secret.”

She winked at him. Alistair, with wide eyes and a silly grin, put the sugar cake in his mouth in one bite.

“You’re secret’s safe with me,” he said, his words muffled by the food in his mouth as he crossed his heart with his finger. Esme’s laughter pealed brightly over the campsite, turning the heads of Leliana and Sten nearby. Sten grunted as the two Wardens laughed together, while Leliana gave them a knowing smile.

“Good night, Alistair,” Esme said when the laughter subsided, gently putting a hand on his shoulder as she stood up. Alistair wished her hand had lingered just a moment longer, while he resisted the urge to place his hand on top of hers. Because he still had a mouth full of sugar cake, Alistair simply nodded at her as she walked away from him.

He let himself watch Esme duck behind the flaps of her tent. When she disappeared, he sighed, cursing their purchase of tents in Lothering. He missed their nights under the stars together. But swallowing the last of the sugar cake in his mouth, he turned to his own tent. After he undressed and laid down, he pulled the rose from his bag and placed it next to his pillow, just as he had the night before.

As he closed his eyes, Alistair breathed in deeply and whispered, “Good night, Esme.”


	7. World fell away then, misty in mem'ry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long delay in between these chapters. I have not abandoned the project. Real life just got in the way of fun projects like fanfiction.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

As he had anticipated, Alistair discovered he was out of his element when it came to women. For the first time since he met her, Esme seemed distracted and worried. Alistair felt powerless to help, and in fact, all of his efforts to cheer her up appeared to just make things worse.

Esme had not been her normal self from the minute they had risen and packed up camp.

“We need to talk about where we are heading next,” she had said that morning, decisively gathering everyone around her before they took to the road again. “We need to have a plan. It appears everyone is leaving this decision to me, but I would at least appreciate your input.”

Alistair was a bit surprised at Esme’s sharp tone. The rest of the group seemed slightly unnerved by it as well. Everyone could tell something was off with Esme.

“We have the Grey Warden treaties,” Alistair had piped in after nervously clearing his throat. Someone had to break the silence. “We could find the people who are beholden to us, but I’m also worried about Arl Eamon. I know he would support us if we sought him out first and tried to help him.”

“But we don’t know that,” Leliana had said. “We don’t even know if he is still alive. The Brecilian Forest is just east of here. We could begin searching for the elves.”

“We could go to Redcliffe and find out if the arl  _ is  _ alive rather than ignoring him,” Alistair had replied, a bit annoyed. “I know the people of Redcliffe. I’m sure if Arl Eamon is not able to help us that Bann Teagan will do whatever he can to rally the people of the village.”

“Redcliffe sounds like a gamble without knowing the arl’s status,” Sten had said, furrowing his brow. “I believe the dwarves would be a formidable ally. Perhaps we should seek them first.”

“If we are not to go after Loghain directly,” Morrrigan had contributed, “then it seems we should go after the groups that might give us the most power first. We don’t know where or how to find the elves, and the city of Orzammar is quite far. Although I am loathe to agree with Alistair, Redcliffe Castle is one of the closest options available to us.”

“What do you think, Esme?” Leliana had asked. Esme was unusually quiet and pensive. She had been listening to everyone, but Alistair could tell she was lost in her own thoughts. She shifted her weight back and forth several times before answering.

“I think we should go to the Circle first,” she had said quietly, avoiding the gazes of everyone in the party. “I know Redcliffe is closest, and I can sense the advantage to going there soon. But we don’t know if the Arl is alive and we don’t know if he will support us. I don’t know the first thing about how to find the elves and Orzammar is many days away. However, the Circle Tower is not much farther than Redcliffe and the mages have an equal obligation to help us.”

Esme had finally raised her eyes to look at everyone and gauge their reactions. No one had disagreed with her. 

Taking a deep breath, Esme had looked down at her feet and added, “I will admit that my motive in going to the Circle first is also a bit...personal. The Circle is the only home I’ve known. My friends and the closest thing I have known to family for most of my life are there. I am worried about the people I care about because of what we learned in Lothering.”

It was true. Alistair had overheard Esme talking with some patrons at the inn in Lothering after overhearing that something was wrong at the Circle. No one quite knew exactly what had happened, but the general consensus was that something terrible was going on with the mages.

“Because of that, I promise that we will go to Redcliffe after we enlist the help of the Circle of Magi, Alistair.” She had raised her eyes and given him a brief smile. “I know there are people you care about in Redcliffe as well.”

With that, Esme had straightened her back and looked around the group.

“Any objections to going to the Circle first?” she had asked. No one had objected, but Esme had looked to Alistair last. For some reason, Alistair felt like she needed his approval. He had not said anything in reply. He simply nodded and motioned for Esme to lead the way. 

And that was how the day had begun.

He did not disagree with Esme’s plan. Enlisting the help of the mages would be a great boon for the two remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden. He wished they were going to Redcliffe, but even he had to admit that mages were powerful foes against the darkspawn. The strategy was fine and made sense. The plan to approach the mages first was not the reason that Alistair felt on edge. 

Alistair’s only concern was for Esme. It seemed that with each step they took toward the Circle Tower, the more Esme sighed and pursed her lips. The journey that day had been unusually quiet. Each time Alistair tried to talk with Esme, she responded politely but shortly, quickly ending any opportunity for follow-up or conversation. It was so uncharacteristic of Esme to be cold and closed off that Alistair was truly beginning to worry. 

He tried to put himself in her shoes to imagine how she must feel. At some point, she must have been taken from her family, if she had even had one before she went to the Tower. As a child, she would have felt alone and scared, trying to master powers that she probably could not even comprehend and did not know how to control. She spent her life studying with one of the greatest mages in Ferelden if it was true that Irving took her as one of his students. But then something traumatic had happened to her that made her leave what she had called the only home she had ever known. 

Alistair was shocked at how little he knew about Esme as he tried to imagine what her life had been like. When they stopped for the mid-day meal, Esme sat by herself under the shade of a tree with Griffon. Putting down his pack, Alistair mustered up the courage to try one more time to have a conversation with her. Her countenance was so deflated. He felt the need to lift her spirits if he could.

“You know,” he started as he approached her under the tree with Griffon, “I thought we might need to keep some goodies in store for our favorite Grey Warden. So I picked up some of these while we were in Lothering.”

Smiling, Alistair pulled some dried meats from his pack and laughed as Griffon sat at attention, waiting for permission to eat them.

“Do you think our honorable Grey Warden deserves these?” he asked Esme with a grin. To his relief, Esme smiled back.

“I think he more than deserves them,” she replied. “And thank you for thinking of it.”

“Of course. Do you mind if I sit with you?”

Esme nodded and shrugged. Alistair took the gesture as permission for him to sit next to her, but unfortunately, his attempt at conversation ended there. Esme ate slowly from her own pack and Alistair followed suit. But he refused to give up.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started. “You always show an interest in everyone else. You ask us about our lives, our families, where we come from. But no one really asks about you.”

Alistair looked sidelong at Esme. She was looking at her hands in her lap, picking at her fingernails. Her demeanor was not encouraging, but Alistair persisted. There was nothing wrong with him showing an interest in the life of his fellow Grey Warden, was there?

“I’d like to know more about you,” he said nervously. “Would you tell me about...your family? Your life in the Tower?”

“Why do you want to know?” Esme asked, her voice surprisingly quiet.

“Well, we’re the only remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden. I thought it might be nice to know a little bit about each other.”

She looked up at him then. There was something in her eyes that Alistair couldn’t quite place. Was it fear? Nervousness? Pain? He wasn’t sure, but he felt an almost uncontrollable urge to take her face in his hands and attempt to kiss whatever that feeling was away.

Shaking his head, Alistair looked away and said, “I’m sorry if that was too forward. I just thought it might be good to get to know each other better. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Would you walk with me?”

Alistair turned his head back to face Esme in surprise.

“What?” he asked.

“Would you walk with me?” Esme asked again, this time standing and extending her hand to him on the ground. “I could use a break from the large group, if that’s alright with you.”

Awkwardly, Alistair took Esme’s extended hand and stood up. 

“Of course,” he replied. “I’d be happy to.”

Esme smiled, and he and Esme turned to walk down a lightly padded trail off the road with Griffon in tow. The trio strolled silently for several minutes until Esme took a deep breath and stopped next to a small stream. 

“I don’t remember much about my life before the Circle,” she said. “But I do remember water. I was born in Kirkwall and my parents would take me down to the sea to play on hot days. I loved the water -- the cool, cleansing feeling of it. When I think of my childhood, that is what I remember. That memory of the water lapping at my toes with my mother laughing nearby.”

Esme bent down and dipped her hand into the stream. Alistair watched as she let the water run gently between her fingers. He wasn’t exactly sure why he did it, but Alistair followed her lead. Taking off his armored glove, he bent down and felt the cool, crisp water run between his fingertips. When he looked up, he saw Esme smiling at him and he couldn’t help but smile back.

_ It’s working _ , he thought.  _ Don’t screw things up, Alistair. _

Standing, Esme resumed walking and Alistair followed.

“I remember the day the templars took me away. I didn’t have any dramatic showing of magical talent like so many other mages do. There’s no terrifying story to my discovery. I didn’t burn down a house or summon a lightning strike or freeze someone in their tracks. My first memories of magic were with water. I remember discovering that I could replicate the healing and cleansing properties of water with my own mind and hands. I remember healing my mother once when she cut herself in the kitchen.”

Alistair was entranced as Esme spoke. He knew he was lost every time he looked in her eyes, but he found he was similarly hypnotized by the sound of her voice. 

“How did the templars find out about your magic?” he asked.

“I was so small, I don’t know how word got to the templars, and I’ve never seen my family again to ask what happened. But somehow the Chantry found out that I had magical talent. Like all other mages who are discovered, I was taken to the Circle. I remember…”

Esme stopped walking and Alistair stopped with her.

“Are you sure you care to hear about any of this?” she asked him, her head tilted slightly to the side. “I feel like I’m rambling.”

“I don’t think you’re rambling,” he replied. “I’d like to know what happened to you.”

He didn’t mean for his words to come out quite like that. Saying that something “happened to her” seemed a little strong, but Esme didn’t skip a beat. Nodding, she continued her story, again leisurely walking down the wooded path.

“I remember my mother’s screams when they took me away,” she said, barely louder than a whisper. “That’s my last memory of my family.”

They were silent for a few moments. Alistair wasn’t sure what to say. Eventually, he didn’t have to say anything, because Esme started talking again. Her tone changed as she described life in the Circle. Alistair was relieved to find out that her life had not been miserable after that, although she had been locked away in the Tower. She had loved studying magic. She lost herself in it sometimes, and as she had told him before, she especially enjoyed studying the healing arts.

“When Duncan arrived at the Tower, I leapt at the chance to leave the Circle and use my healing magic to help others. I couldn’t wa--”

Esme stopped abruptly and placed her arm in front of Alistair, stopping him as her voice went silent. She turned slowly to look at him and pointed over the edge of the ridge along which they were walking. Quietly, Alistair looked where Esme had pointed and saw why she had ended their conversation so quickly. He had been so wrapped up in Esme’s story, that he had not been paying attention to their surroundings.

Below them, near the stream, were six men gathered in a small circle. But what was peculiar about the situation was that five of the men were armed and surrounded one unarmed man. Alistair could not hear the conversation the men were having, but he hoped that the men did not see or hear them approach. He and Esme were clearly outnumbered. 

The armed men were closing the gap on the unarmed man. It was clear that violence would erupt soon. He felt Esme shift uneasily next to him and before he could stop her, Esme shouted to Alistair’s dismay. She distracted the guards but not soon enough to avoid a confrontation with the unarmed man. Just as she shouted to the men below, one of the five intimidating men stabbed the one worried man before turning to glare at Esme and Alistair. Drawing their weapons, the men began to run toward Alistair and Esme’s position on the ridge.

“Griffon will help you,” Esme growled under her breath. “I will keep them at bay with my magic as best I can.”

Alistair was not too shy to admit that he was scared. He had not been in a situation where he was so outnumbered. But it didn’t take long for him to gain his courage after Griffon charged forward, ripping into the leg of the first man to approach. With a sharp cry, Alistair ran after the faithful hound, angling his shield to deflect incoming blows and slashing with his sword at anything that moved.

As the fight continued, Alistair was reassured by the comforting feeling each time he sensed Esme healing him. Not only did she throw some sort of hex or curse to slow the approaching guards, but she doused him with cool, refreshing spells as well. With every spell, Alistair felt strengthened, but he simultaneously felt relief that if Esme was able to cast spells to protect him, she was not hurt either.

When the last of the five guards fell, Alistair cleaned his sword in the grass and sheathed it in triumph. Catching his breath, he glanced back to see Esme running toward him.

“Are you all right?” She asked, breathless herself.

“I’m just fine,” he replied with a grin. “Thanks to you and our faithful companion here.” Alistair motioned toward Griffon who cocked his head and barked happily.

“Good boy, Griffon,” Esme said as she patted the dog’s head. “I knew you could handle it. Both of you. I couldn’t stand to see them attack that poor, defenseless man. And he looked so familiar…”

Alistair watched as Esme cautiously approached the man who had been viciously stabbed. 

“Yes, I do recognize him,” Esme said quietly. “This is Elric Maraigne, one of King Cailan’s honor guard from Ostagar. We should check if he’s still alive.”

While Esme bent over the man’s body, he began to cough and sputter. Alistair readied his sword, but the man was clearly not going to attack Esme.

“Thank you,” Elric gruffed, still coughing. “I didn’t expect the Bann’s men to notice my escape so quickly. I tried to hide here in the woods, but there wasn’t time. And now I’m a dead man.”

With her usual kindness, Esme spoke with the man about the king, about Ostagar, and about the inevitable defeat in the battle. It soon became apparent that Elric had been one of Cailan’s close confidants, a person the king had trusted with an item of great importance. It was also clear that the man recognized Esme and Alistair in turn.

“The king entrusted me with the key to the royal arms chest,” Elric sputtered. “If anything were to were to happen to him, he said, it was vital I deliver it to the Wardens.”

Elric’s health continued to fade as the conversation progressed.

“I could try to heal you,” she said. “It is my gift.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Elric replied, managing a wan smile. “But I am afraid I’m beyond healing at this point. The best I can do is tell you where to find the key that Cailan gave me.”

Elric described where he left the key and drew a small, crude map of where to find it at Ostagar.

“It is vital that the king’s documents do not fall into the wrong hands,” Elric said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “As for Maric’s sword, it is too powerful to be pawed at by those monsters. Same for the king’s other arms and armor. And… and if you happen to find Cailan’s body, see it off. He was our king. He shouldn’t be left to rot amidst the dawkspawn’s filth.”

Gasping softly, Elric drew his last breath in Esme’s arms.

“Go to the Maker in peace, Elric,” Alistair heard Esme whisper. He watched as she bent her head slowly, closing her eyes for a few moments. 

Alistair was not sure if his companion was praying or thinking. Was Esme religious? That would be a surprise to him. He didn’t expect many mages to be religious after the way they were forced to live by the Chantry. But the realization that there was something more to learn about Esme simply made his heart flutter. He followed her lead, bowing his head and squinting with one eye to make sure he did not stay in that pose longer than she did.

She did not say anything when she stood to return to the rest of the group. Alistair followed her in silence for several minutes before clearing his throat.

“Do you plan to return to Ostagar and retrieve the key and the contents of the chest?” he asked nervously.

Without turning to look at him, Esme replied, “Of course.”

“When you go,” Alistair said quickly, “will you take me with you?”

Esme stopped dead in her tracks. She turned to face him.

“After all we have been through,” she said reverently, “and all we still probably have to go through…together...”

She paused and studied the details of his face. Alistair shifted nervously from one foot to the other, waiting for her to finish. But he did not look away from her steady gaze.

“I would have it no other way.”


End file.
